Mum and Dada?
by The Lime-Wielding Ninja
Summary: Harry wakes up in the middle of the night to find that he is on a doorstep, wrapped up in a very warm blanket, holding a piece of parchment. Where did his mum and dada go? He's going to try and find them, but who will he meet on the way? I don't own.
1. Chapter 1

Harry and the Woods

Chapter One

Harry woke up with a start. It was very dark out, and that scared him very badly. He began to cry very quietly. Where were his mum and dada? Had they left him in the supermarket? No, the supermarket's ceiling was different, it wasn't so small, and it didn't only have one light. Harry put the piece of parchment he was holding in his mouth and gnawed thoughtfully. Maybe he should go and look for his parents. Yes, that's what he'd do. They were only mum and dada, they couldn't have gone all that far.

Harry also noticed, once he got out of the plaid blanket he was wrapped in, that it was cold out, but not so cold that he couldn't walk for a bit, just until he found mum and dada. He dragged the blanket behind him as he slid off the porch step and toddled down the street, _just in case_, he thought. It was what his mum always said when he didn't want to wear his jacket in the car. Of course, Harry didn't have much of an idea of what it meant, but it seemed important. He also took the now sodden piece of parchment with him in case he got hungry.

"Mumumumum! Dada, dadadada," he said to the empty street. He heard a sound off to his right, and so ran as quickly as he could without tripping over his own feet (which happened a lot at home) towards the noise he was so sure was the sound of his dada knocking something off the table again.

Harry followed the sound a long way up the street before he found a cat that looked very much like his own digging through some garbage bags. Harry gasped, and then squealed with joy. The cat, startled, spun around very fast and tried to stare the one-year-old down. But Harry would have none of that staring contest business. No, he just teetered over the uneven pavement of the alleyway and cautiously patted the cat on the back, the way his own cat had liked. The current cat, who Harry named Mippin (though he did not state this out loud yet), rubbed up against the child's legs happily. Harry giggled, because the cat's tail tickled his chin and nose.

Now, as Harry was simply an "average" wizard boy, he needed to sleep. So he picked up his blanket that he hadn't remembered dropping in the first place, laid it down on the ground and fell asleep to the rhythm of Mippin purring.

.:. :.: .:.

Harry awoke to the rough feeling of Mippin licking his face, and the sun low in the sky, shining yellow in his eyes. Harry reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes and looked around him. He was wrapped up in the blanket, and had some difficulty disentangling himself. Once, he'd gotten up, Mippin dashed around the corner of an intersection, but came back after a few second to stare intently at Harry. Harry soon caught up to his feline friend. When the cat began to walk away again, Harry followed, because it seemed the right thing to do.

Mippin led him to a certain address where, when the front door would be opened, Harry would have a very different life than the one intended for him by Dumbledore.

**A/N: So this is another "Harry escapes the Dursley's earlier than intended" fic. I was inspired by a child psychology book I've been rereading and a one-year-old I looked after on New Year's Eve. One-year-olds can be clever little kids, eating my favourite books and whatnot.**

**Not sure how long I'll drag this fic out for, but I know where it's going.**


	2. Chapter 2

Mum and Dada?

Chapter 2

"Oh, you poor darlings," exclaimed Arabella Figg when she opened the door to let Mittens, her kneazle-cat, outside. There sat a baby, maybe one year old, gripping a wool blanket firmly in one hand. A light coloured, fluffy kitten accompanied the child, and was playing with the trailing end of the blanket. The baby also had a nasty-looking cut on his head, and it looked as though it would scar. Mittens merely looked at the two, deemed them beneath her notice

Harry looked up at the sound of Mrs. Figg's voice. It sounded nice, though a bit distressed. He decided to smile, because when he smiled it usually made other people happy, too. This instance was no different. He smiled and waved his other hand, which held the chewed letter. The lady smiled back and picked him up along with Mippin and brought him inside the house.

Her house was not particularly clean and tidy, she knew, and certainly not as child-proofed anymore. Her children had since packed up and left and now had families of their own. "Now what's your name," she asked the baby, hoping that he had some capability of speech.

"Mippin," Harry answered, pointing at the cat.

"Ah, I see that," said Arabella. "Ooh, what's that you've got in your hand there? Parchment?"

Parchment. The word seemed to fit the description of what he was holding, so Harry nodded his head, and held it out to the lady, hoping to learn more about it.

Arabella politely took the parchment from the baby, thanked him, and unfolded it. She set both him and the kitten down on the couch before she began to read. There were a few holes that looked like bite marks, and the ink ran a bit from the drool, but the important parts of the letter were legible.

_Dear Mrs. Petunia Dursley_

_I regret to inform you that Lily Potter, your sister, has died, along with her husband, James Potter. They ha----son, Harry, who has------amily lef------e care of him._

_As you also know, your sister was a witch. This means that there is a strong likelihood that Harry is a wizard. This does not mean that you shouldn't treat h-------ke any other child, but do not be surprised if, in t-----years----come, strange things happen when he feels strongly about something. Please teach him that he is a wizard, so that it will not be such a shock to him when he goes to school. This means that he will need to be schooled on wizardry. He already has a place at Hogwa------hool of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and should begin attending on the first of September._

At this point, there was a large section of the letter entirely missing, apart from –_ond, _which could be almost anything, and –_demort_, which obviously was for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

_I do hope that you ta-----od care of Harry. He is more important than you think._

_Sincerely,_

_Profes--r Albus Dumbledore_

Harry Potter. Arabella Figg had just taken in The Boy Who Lived. What to do, what to do.

.:. :.: .:.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk in his study, contemplating the decision he had made last night. Would the Muggle world be best for Harry? Should he have such a boring life as most Muggles have? Or should he have more knowledge of the wizarding world. Would it help with the prophesy, the defeat of Voldemort? There were so many possible outcomes. Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and sighed. _Three...two...one...cue interruption._

An owl soared through his door and keeled over on the blotter. Dumbledore smiled a small smile and untied the note from the owl's leg. It was a rather short letter, in a manner of speaking, but the things written were huge and bold.

_Professor Dumbledore:_

**_WHY IN MERLIN'S NAME HAS HARRY POTTER APPEARED ON MY DOORSTEP?_**

_Sincerely,_

_Arabella Figg_

_P.S. This means that I'm inviting you over for tea at, shall we say eleven?_

The amused professor glanced at his watch. It was still only 10:30, but it was rarely a bad thing to be early for tea time.

.:. :.: .:.

The fire turned green behind Mrs. Figg's grate, and Dumbledore stepped onto the living room carpet. He immediately saw a rather happy infant following a kitten and trying to imitate its sounds. Mrs. Figg was in the process of setting up cups and saucers and looked up as Dumbledore was dusting the soot off himself.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, do sit down," said Arabella, setting down a florally decorated teapot. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Sugar, please," answered Dumbledore. "And do call me Albus, I'd prefer it if we kept this less formal. I've been getting owl from the Ministry every few hours, and they insist on using my full title, which has indeed gotten quite a bit longer over the years." He sat down, and Arabella poured him his tea. "Ah, thank you. Now, you were enquiring as to why Harry was on your doorstep, correct?

"Now, I can only guess at this, but I think that Harry woke up in the middle of the night after I placed him on his aunt's doorstep, and took off to look for Lily and James."

At these words, Harry looked at Dumbledore for the first time. "Mum, Dada?" he wondered aloud. He'd heard those names before, and associated them with his mum and dada. He toddled up to the tall, old man before him and looked up questioningly, looking him right in the eye. The blue eyes that looked back through the glasses were kind, smart and a bit sparkly. Harry could trust the man's eyes.

"Hello there, Harry," Dumbledore responded. "I'm afraid that your parents...are gone."

Harry's eyebrows knit together, a little crease forming above the bridge of his nose. The child sat down and put his little finger in his mouth thoughtfully. Gone. But they could come back; they'd probably just gone to the super market. And besides, there was this nice man here, and the lady, and Mippin. They would keep him safe until Mum and Dada got back from shopping.

"Where should Harry stay?" asked Arabella. "I can't properly take care of a child; he's already proven what a fast little thing he is. And I'm not getting any younger."

"I understand entirely, Arabella," Dumbledore responded. "I will have to find someone else to care for him."

Arabella sipped at her cooling tea. "What about young Sirius Black? He and James were best friends at school."

"Yes, I tried to contact him this morning, and he wasn't there. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd been gone after by remaining Death Eaters, he could be on the run. I was also thinking earlier of a family with more experience with children."

"The Weasleys, maybe?"

"They have enough to deal with already, what with a seventh baby," Dumbledore said. "Not that they wouldn't take wonderful care of Harry, but they're short on galleons, and space."

Arabella nodded. Then her expression changed from thoughtfulness to thoughtfulness mixed with hope. "What about the Woods?"

Dumbledore remained silent, but his thoughts went to the small family. They had a young boy, Oliver. He'd be about four now. Oliver's mother, Beatrice, had recently lost a baby due to a sever type of anemia she had, so they'd still have the crib, and the extra bedroom. And wouldn't they be thrilled to know that they'd get to take care of The Boy Who Lived.

"Should we give them a shout?" inquired Arabella.

"Yes," murmured Albus. "Yes, I think we should."

**A/N: So, the next chapter in this fic is done. It took me quite a while, with a bunch of editing. Altogether, I'm quite pleased with how the chapter has turned out. Tonnes of effort, and I think it was worthwhile.**

**Please tell me if you find any errors!**


	3. AUTHOR'S NOTE!

MAJOR AUTHOR'S NOTE!

Okay, so there is some very necessary editing to be done to this story. I recently reread a bit of OotP and found some major mistakes on my part, and there are other mistakes that other people found that I am trying to fix. I am going to need to take down and repost the second chapter of this story. DON'T WORRY IF YOU SEE IT DISAPPEAR! It is not dead. It's just...sleeping...


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